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“Love never dies a natural death. It dies because we don’t know how to replenish its source. It dies of blindness and errors and betrayals. It dies of illness and wounds; it dies of weariness, of witherings, of tarnishings.” ~ Anaïs Nin

“Love never dies a natural death. It dies because we don’t know how to replenish its source. It dies of blindness and errors and betrayals. It dies of illness and wounds; it dies of weariness, of witherings, of tarnishings.” ~ Anaïs Nin

black roses

black roses

dying flowers 33 by PnL, via Flickr

dying flowers 33 by PnL, via Flickr

Dead flowers  If I use plates for my idea I would like to have a full place setting of them and set up a table like display as an instillation. I think dead flowers would further push my concept that I have in mind.

Dead flowers If I use plates for my idea I would like to have a full place setting of them and set up a table like display as an instillation. I think dead flowers would further push my concept that I have in mind.

What is lovely never dies, but passes into other loveliness.   The sad endless pursuit of the current delusion of beauty.  The endless pursuit, the urgency to be cool, a thrill seeker one inevitable misstep from destruction.  Always left wanting more – never enough for happiness!  Be different – step out –enjoy what is around you   Stop, look, and take in the loveliness that is, not that was!   Enjoy what is, not what could be.  Beauty is transitory - a dawn mist the sun always burns off.

What is lovely never dies, but passes into other loveliness. The sad endless pursuit of the current delusion of beauty. The endless pursuit, the urgency to be cool, a thrill seeker one inevitable misstep from destruction. Always left wanting more – never enough for happiness! Be different – step out –enjoy what is around you Stop, look, and take in the loveliness that is, not that was! Enjoy what is, not what could be. Beauty is transitory - a dawn mist the sun always burns off.

hosta by leslie avon miller; there's a few more just as great at the artist's flickr site: http://www.flickr.com/photos/leslieavonmiller/5702413190/in/set-72157626554764171/

hosta by leslie avon miller; there's a few more just as great at the artist's flickr site: http://www.flickr.com/photos/leslieavonmiller/5702413190/in/set-72157626554764171/

LVIII

LVIII

Annamaria Germani                                 Ô toi, qui de ma mort fut cause,  Sans que tu puisses le chasser,  Toutes les nuits mon spectre rose  A ton chevet viendra danser.  Mais ne crains rien, je ne réclame  Ni messe ni De Profundis,   Ce léger parfum est mon âme  Et j’arrive du Paradis.

Annamaria Germani Ô toi, qui de ma mort fut cause, Sans que tu puisses le chasser, Toutes les nuits mon spectre rose A ton chevet viendra danser. Mais ne crains rien, je ne réclame Ni messe ni De Profundis, Ce léger parfum est mon âme Et j’arrive du Paradis.

Stained│Vitrales - #Stained - #StainedGlass

Stained│Vitrales - #Stained - #StainedGlass